


to touch you

by morshmalliver



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24039001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morshmalliver/pseuds/morshmalliver
Summary: The nature of Snake and Otacon’s relationship is unknown, even between the two of them. Of course there’s a deep caring for the other, but it’s unclear if it stems only from their friendship, or if the bond they share goes beyond the inherent bromance between two men who may or may not be heterosexual.
Relationships: Otacon/Solid Snake
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	to touch you

Touching. Being touched. It’s never been Otacon’s strong suit. Anytime someone’s tried to get close to him he’s shrunken away. Honestly, it was annoying. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to be touched. In fact, he craved it. The idea of feeling another person’s skin against his. It plagued every corner, every inch of his mind. If only his body would allow him to love and be loved.

Currently, in the present, physical world, outside the confines of his thoughts, he is not alone. Snake is with him. That’s right— they were talking about… something. Otacon is sitting at the counter. Snake is leaning against the other side, facing him. 

“Otacon-” He snaps to attention, looking into Snake’s eyes. They’re… fond. Understanding. Otacon’s insides jump for a second. It’s nothing new, he feels it every time Snake leans a little too close, stares a little too long. He’s come to accept it.

The nature of Snake and Otacon’s relationship is unknown, even between the two of them. Of course there’s a deep caring for the other, but it’s unclear if it stems only from their friendship, or if the bond they share goes beyond the inherent bromance between two men who may or may not be heterosexual. Otacon knows, to an extent, how he feels about Snake. It’s fairly clear the way his gut reaches his throat when he’s near Snake may not be a normal straight person reaction to seeing your best friend. Otacon also understands, to a much lesser extent, that there is a very, very small possibility Snake shares his same feelings. 

Unfortunately for Otacon, his brain shuts down those thoughts as soon as they come to him, and they come to him fairly often. To Otacon, it’s all just an indulgent fantasy. The idea that he would ever feel Snake’s rough hands around his, caressing Snake’s knuckles with his thumb… Sitting on the couch with their arms around each other, legs tangled and bodies pressed together as they watch some shitty no-name 80s sci-fi… Holding Snake’s face, feeling his rough stubble scratch the palms of his hands, pressing their foreheads together while sliding his hands into Snake’s hair… It was all an unachievable fantasy, albeit a very frequent one.

He felt something touch his hand. Fingers, very lightly tapped the top of his hand. It took a distant “Otacon” to bring him back out of his thoughts again, and as soon as he realized who had touched his hand, he pulled back.

“Sorry, I just… I have a lot on my mind,” Otacon avoids looking at any part of Snake, fearing it would bring him back into his bullshit thoughts.

Snake nods. It’s a small gesture, but somewhat comforting nonetheless.

The night ends there. Snake suggests they go to bed, and each departs into their respective bedrooms. For Otacon, “going to bed” is synonymous with “staying awake in a dark room alone and sinking deeper and deeper into his thoughts”. 

The feeling of Snake’s fingers on his hand lingered. Once again, Otacon found himself indulging in delusions of a greater affection, one that involved fingers intertwined and bodies sleeping close. 

Eventually his thoughts diverged into how he and Snake showed each other affection in real life. Which is to say: they didn’t. At least, not frequently, and when they did it was always very subtle. Fond gazes, a brief hand over the others’, a supportive grasp of shoulders. Though few and far between, each moment meant something. When placed in context, the gestures felt a little too personal to be the product of solely friendship. 

Now, instead of entertaining fantasies, Otacon analyzes each gaze, each brief but gentle touch. What if he wasn’t alone in his feelings? He knows Snake cares about him. Maybe he should just bite the bullet and tell Snake how he feels. To get it over with, if nothing else. 

Should he do it now? It’s late. What if Snake’s already gone to bed? No— Otacon knows Snake has a tendency to stay awake at night, just as he does. 

Actually— fuck it. Who knows when Otacon will have this confidence again? If Snake is asleep he’ll go back to bed. Easy. 

Otacon gently lifts himself out of his bed, silently making his way toward his door. He creeps out of his room, shuffling across the hall to Snake’s bedroom door. After letting two soft knocks upon the door’s surface, he hears a brief rustling of sheets, and a muffled, “Otacon?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s… it’s me,” Otacon stands rigid behind the door for a few silent seconds afterward. 

“You can come in, you know,” he hears Snake on the other side, and sighs in short lived relief as he grips the doorknob and steps inside. Upon seeing Snake, he freezes once again, taking him in. 

To anyone else, there’s nothing significant about Snake’s current appearance. He’s sitting up in his bed, half covered by blankets, reading a book. To Otacon, this is the most gorgeous man in the world. His hair is mussed, laying in a way that almost frames his face. His t-shirt is folded and pulled in a way that accentuates his chest and his shoulders, two of Snake’s features Otacon has always found stunningly attractive.

It occurs to Otacon that he’s been staring for longer than is probably appropriate. “I— ah— I have something I think I should… there’s something I want to tell you— to— to say to you, Snake… Dave.” Oh god. He can’t do this, oh no. He can’t even form a sentence, how is he going to be able to do this? He should just leave. Tell Snake he needed a book or something. Go back to bed and forget this ever happened. 

As Otacon begins to voice his excuse, he catches a glimpse of Snake’s eyes. They’re looking straight at him, boring into his soul. While normally the ice cold eyes of a soldier, they’re looking at him with the gentle sky blue of a friend who’s ready to listen. Okay. Just say it. 

Otacon takes a breath, fixes his gaze to Snake’s face. “Sna— Dave… I don’t know if there’s any easy way to say this,” Snake leans forward, just a little. Suddenly Otacon finds himself looking anywhere but Snake. “I think—I know? Yeah, I know. I have… No, okay— When I look at you, I don’t know what to think— or, I mean, I do? No, let me rephrase that actually— When I see you I can’t help but feel... exhilarated. When you look at me I don’t know what to think. You make me feel things I never thought I could feel again. When I’m with you— and just you, alone— it feels like nothing could ever compare. I think… What I’m trying to s—” Suddenly, Snake gets off his bed. Otacon returns his gaze to Snake, stunned into silence, as Snake slowly steps toward Otacon. 

Snake stops, facing Otacon, their faces only inches apart. They stay that way for a second, standing, looking into each other’s eyes, taking in every wrinkle, every curve, every indent of the other’s face. Then, almost out of nowhere, Snake hugs Otacon. It’s a strong, incredibly comforting embrace, and it lasts for what feels like decades. 

Eventually, Snake pulls his head away from Otacon’s body, moving his hands to Otacon’s face. He presses their foreheads together. 

“I know, Otacon.”

“You... you know?” Otacon almost pulls back. 

“I know,” Snake chuckles. It’s soft, for someone with as gruff a voice as his, and one might miss it if they hadn’t been as close to him as Otacon was in that moment. “Hal...”

“Yes, Dave?”

Snake swallowed, still looking at Otacon. “Can I kiss you?” Snake speaks so softly, and Otacon nods, feeling Snake’s hands move to the back of his head, moving his own hands to hold Snake’s face, as they bring each other’s faces closer together. It’s awkward. Neither of them is very good at it and they keep bumping noses, but it feels right. 

After a few more short, sweet kisses, they pull away, shaking, still holding each other. There’s something about it— something about being held, being kissed, being touched by Snake, that just feels so exceptionally right.


End file.
